


What Price The Truth?

by TazzyJan



Series: Rebuilding [1]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e04 The Good Soldier, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:03:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TazzyJan/pseuds/TazzyJan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis' thoughts and feelings after The Good Soldier. </p><p>I was rather unsatisfied with how that episode ended.  I felt there should have been a few more repercussions between the boys considering how much they left Aramis on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

What Price The Truth?

Part 1

Aramis let his feet carry him back to the garrison from the cemetery, paying no mind to anything around him. It was done. Marsac was finally at rest and he prayed that God would grant him the peace in death that he never found in life. Now there was only him - the last survivor of Savoy. A chill ran up his spine as he realized how truly alone he now was. 

When he finally entered the courtyard, he was not surprised to find his companions clustered around their usual table. At least the overhang kept them mostly out of the rain. He knew he owed them all an apology for his behavior of late. He had asked far too much of them, expecting them to lay aside their duty… their loyalty to the Musketeers… for friendship’s sake. His actions were a dishonor to the entire regiment. 

He only hoped his brothers could find it in their hearts to forgive him. He had lost so much these last few days – Marsac, the Captain’s trust, his own honor, most certainly his lovers. If he lost his brothers as well, he did not know how he would bear it.

He stopped in front of their table, his head bowed, water running off of him in rivulets. “I know this is neither the time nor place, but I would speak with each of you when the time suits you,” he said, his words stiff and formal and his eyes glued to the table top lest he see something in his brothers’ eyes he could not stand to.

“Brother, you are soaked through,” Porthos said as he rose and took Aramis by the arm. “Let us get you home and dry. Whatever you wish to speak of can surely wait until then.”

“As you wish,” Aramis relented, unwilling to argue. The feel of Porthos’ warm hand on his arm was like a brand on his chilled skin and he relished it as if it were the last time he would ever feel such.

Porthos cast a worried glance at Athos and the other man rose quickly and took Aramis’ other arm. They bid D’Artagnan a hasty goodnight then began walking Aramis toward his lodgings. While not the largest of the three of theirs, they were the closest and they needed to get the man out of his wet clothes before he made himself ill.

Once inside, Athos began building a fire in the hearth while Porthos started in on Aramis’ clothes. He dropped the sodden garments to the floor in a heap. He would get them sorted out once Aramis had been seen to.

“You do not need to stay,” Aramis told them softly. “I can attend to myself.”

“Mis?” Porthos queried as he tried to get Aramis to meet his eyes. 

“I have asked far too much for friendship’s sake already,” Aramis went on. “I shall not impose upon you further. I thank you for seeing me home. You are true friends indeed.”

Porthos felt like he’d been punched. When he turned to look at Athos, the look on the man’s face showed he felt the same. That Aramis would consider this an imposition stunned them and made their hearts ache. 

“This is no imposition,” Athos finally voiced as he turned from the fire. “And there is nothing you cannot ask of us, for friendship’s sake or otherwise.”

“Please do not mock me,” Aramis whispered, his voice strained. “I know I have erred. I know I have… have damaged all that was between us. I tell you now, if you will but give me another chance, if you will but let me make amends, I will never again ask you to put friendship before duty.”

“You have damaged nothing,” Porthos told him sternly. “It is we who have done damage. You needed us and we were not there.”

“What I asked was treasonous. I had no right…”

“You had every right,” Porthos insisted. “Do you not remember Bonnaire? You were more than willing to commit treason for *my* sake. Yet when the time came, I failed to do the same. I am so sorry, brother.”

“You are not the only one who failed him, Porthos,” Athos said as he rose and joined them. “But we can talk later. For now, let us get him out of these wet things before he catches a chill if he has not already.”

Aramis stood silently and allowed them to undress him as if he were a child. He knew better than to argue with them when they were like this. Better to let them do as they would and, once they were satisfied that he was no longer in peril, he could have his say. 

“You are wrong,” Aramis said once he was wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the floor in front of the fire.

“How so?” Athos asked calmly. He had known Aramis was not going to let what they said go. 

“You did not fail me,” he replied. “I had no right to question the Captain and even less to expect you to do likewise. My actions should have seen me thrown out of the regiment at the very least, if not facing a court martial and the Bastille for striking a superior officer and harboring a known deserter.”

“You sought justice for your brothers,” Athos said softly. “No man can fault you for that.”

“You all did,” Aramis shrugged. 

“And we were wrong,” Porthos told him, moving so that he was sitting right next to him. “We should have listened. I… I thought it was Marsac I was helping and I couldn’t stand the thought, but it wasn’t. It was you asking for help. It was you asking to be listened to… to be trusted… and I did not.”

“Peace, Porthos,” Aramis told him, resignedly. “It is over. The why and how and who… they no longer matter. None of it will bring my brothers back. None of it will restore the honor I have lost.”

“You have lost no honor, Aramis,” Athos told him, frowning at the very thought.

“Have I not?” Aramis replied, his voice eerily devoid of emotion. “I have acted in a manner unbecoming a Musketeer. I have bid my brothers do the same. I have tried to tarnish your trust in the man you respect more than any other. And, in turn, I have tarnished his trust in you. These are not the actions of an honorable man.”

“They are the actions of a man desperate to find the truth for his lost brothers,” Porthos told him. The way Aramis was talking was scaring him badly. He glanced at Athos and saw that he was, once again, similarly affected and that scared him even more.

“And look what it has cost me,” Aramis replied.

“What do you think it has cost you?” Athos asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Everything,” Aramis chuckled. “I do still have my commission at least. The Captain was generous enough to allow me that. I suppose he considered it fair payment for saving his life.”

“You still have your commission, Aramis,” Porthos said, confused. “You are still a Musketeer. I do not see what it is you think you have lost. You say you have lost your honor but I refuse to believe that. You are as honorable a man as any I have ever known. You have lost nothing, brother.”

“Really?” Aramis said shrewdly, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I have lost nothing. What of you two? You could hardly stand to look at me these past weeks. Am I to assume we are still as we were? I think not. I have imposed upon our friendship in an unforgivable manner. That you would no longer wish to be… intimate with me is only to be expected.”

“What?” Porthos gasped, stunned at Aramis’ words. He could see the hurt in the other man’s eyes and it tore at him but he could see the anger as well and he hesitated to reach out, afraid of pushing him too far.

“You think we no longer wish to be your lovers?” Athos asked, as stunned as Porthos at Aramis’ words.

“Why ever would you?” Aramis laughed darkly, his pain slipping past the tight hold he tried to keep on it. 

“Because we love you,” Porthos told him softly. 

“Porthos is right,” Athos added as he moved over so that he was sitting pressed up against Aramis’ side. He wanted the man to feel him, to know that he was there with him. Maybe then he would stop thinking they had already left him. “We love you. We will never abandon you. If… if you had left the regiment, we would have followed. You are precious to us, Aramis, and I am so very sorry that our words and deeds have caused you to doubt that.”

“Stop it,” Aramis pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I do not need such platitudes. I am well aware of my worth to you both. Or lack thereof. You do not need to claim otherwise.”

“That we deserve such harsh words from you shames me,” Porthos said, “but I cannot fault you for them. We have let you down and your trust in us is broken. And you can sit there and deny all you want but you know damn well that we did. You needed us and we turned away.”


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Aramis’ sleep was restless to say the least. He was plagued by dreams that ranged from nightmarish memories of Savoy to horrific events that had not occurred but that his mind saw fit to torture him with regardless of that fact. In the very worst of them, he was forced to watch his brothers die again and again, helpless to stop it. Each time, they died cursing him for bringing such pain and ruination upon them. Each time, he begged them to forgive him. Each time, the outcome was the same.

A few hours before dawn, he dragged himself from the bed, unable to stand the dreams any longer. When he stumbled into the main room, he was surprised to find Athos and Porthos asleep next to the remnants of last night’s fire. He had not realized it had still been raining so hard as to deter his brothers from venturing out. If he had known, he would have gladly given them his bed for the night. It had certainly not done him any good.

He moved about as quietly as he could in search of the clothes the others had taken off him. He did not wish to disturb them so early of the morning. It was hours before they had to be up to report for duty. He finally found them draped over two chairs near the fire. They were mostly dry so he pulled them back on then began fastening his weapons in place. Before he left, he took the blanket from his bed and covered his sleeping brothers with it then he was out the door and headed toward the garrison. 

It might be hours before dawn but he knew the Captain made it a habit to get in early. Even if he was not there yet, Aramis would be waiting for him. He wanted to let him know that he had spoken with his brothers and assure him that he would never again try to come between them and their duty. He had not, as of yet, apologized to D’Artagnan but he would do that today as well. Perhaps when he was done at the garrison he would pay a call on the Bonacieux residence and speak with both D’Artagnan and Constance. He did, after all, owe the lady an apology as well. 

With his course now determined, Aramis headed directly toward the garrison. He would do whatever was necessary to repair the damage he had done to the Captain’s trust in his brothers. He doubted he could do much to repair his own relationship with the man. As the last survivor of Savoy, and the only one to know the full extent of Treville’s involvement, he doubted if the man would every fully trust him again. He only had himself to blame for that, though, and there was precious little to be done for it now.

Striding into the compound, Aramis was not surprised to see a faint light glowing from the window of the Captain’s office. Nodding to the sentries, he headed toward the stairs and up to the landing. He paused once outside the door and took a moment to gather his courage then knocked smartly and waited to be admitted.

“Come,” Treville barked, rather surprised that anyone would be calling on him at such an ungodly hour of the morning. When Aramis entered his office and closed the door behind him, he thought to himself that he probably should have been expecting as much.

“Sir,” Aramis began nervously, his carefully thought out words suddenly failing him.

“Aramis,” Treville greeted, eying the way the man fidgeted and could not seem to meet his eyes. “Something wrong, son?”

“I would like to speak with you, if you have a moment,” Aramis began, taking a step forward and taking off his hat. He held it in front of him, almost shielding himself with it as he waited.

“Of course,” Treville replied as he set aside the papers he was working on and waved toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Now tell me what’s brought you out here before the sun is even close to up,” Treville said, careful to keep his voice even and calm. He and Aramis may have made peace with each other and the events of both Savoy and the preceding weeks but that did not mean there was not still a great deal of lost ground to regain between them. 

“I wanted you to know that I have spoken with the others,” Aramis began. “I apologized for my actions and I assured them that I would never presume to ask such a thing of them again. I… I wanted you to know as well. It was my doing, Sir. I was the one that bade them put their friendship with me before their duty to you. They did not. They were loyal to you, even if they did assist me to a small degree.

“Regardless, I would have you know that I will never make such demands on them again. I will never ask them to turn aside their duty. And… and they would never do so anyway. Please do not hold my actions against them. They are… they are honorable men, Sir.”

“Aramis,” Treville said softly, unsure how to respond to the man’s declaration. It was obvious he was in distress. It was also quite obvious that his companions’ lack of faith in him had badly damaged their brotherhood. Finally, he decided to do what he could to try to ease the man’s mind. Perhaps if he was not so worried about how his actions might affect his brothers he might be able to get past this.

“Aramis,” he began again, “I do not hold your actions against any of you. You sought the truth for your fallen brothers. I will not fault you for that. I am only sorry that the truth you discovered did not bring you the closure you needed.”

“You have been more lenient with me than I deserve,” Aramis said looking down at the floor rather than at the Captain. “I went against your direct orders. I tried to incite my fellow Musketeers to do the same. I harbored a known fugitive and deserter. I *struck* you. You would be within your right to demand my immediate court martial.”

“I have no desire to see you court martialed for standing by your fallen comrades,” Treville told him. “Nor do I intend to court martial the man who saved my life even after he knew of my complicity in their deaths.”

“Would you prefer me punished some other way?” Aramis asked. He looked up at Treville then, curious as to the Captain’s response. There were any number of ways the Captain could order him to be disciplined, from the mere loss of pay to being publicly whipped. 

Captain Treville stared at the man sitting before him for long moments, trying to gauge whether or not he truly meant what he had just said. From the look in his eyes, it was clear that he did. “No, Aramis. No. I have no wish to see you punished at all. I think you are doing quite enough of that on your own,” he finally replied.

“As you say,” Aramis said, frowning slightly in confusion. 

“Aramis, I believe it is my turn to ask you something now,” Treville said.

“What is it?”

“Do you still wish to ride with the others?” Treville asked. He had to force himself to breathe while he waited for the other man to answer. At the moment, he was not at all sure of what that answer might be, for it was blindingly clear that things were very wrong both between the three men and with Aramis’ own perception of events. 

“Why would I not?” Aramis asked, genuinely confused by the question. 

“They rather let you down, didn’t they, son?” Treville suggested as gently as he could, hoping he could somehow make Aramis see that he was not to blame for all of this.

“No, Sir,” Aramis denied. “They did as they should have. They stood by their Captain. I should never have expected anything else of them. I am the one who let them down by imposing upon our friendship in such a manner in the first place.”

“You are a good man and a loyal friend,” Treville told him, conceding the battle for now. 

“I doubt everyone else shares your opinion, Sir,” Aramis said, smiling sadly. “But I thank you all the same for saying it.” With nothing more to add, Aramis bid the Captain farewell and left. It was nearing sunup so he headed toward the Bonacieux house. With luck, he would be able to speak with both D’Artagnan and Constance and make his apologies. Perhaps then he could begin searching for a way to make amends with his brothers.

When Athos awoke, he knew Aramis had already risen and was likely long gone. The blanket now covering him and Porthos indicated as much. They had not wanted to leave him alone, too worried about what he might do should he become trapped in memories of the past. It was plain to see that the events of the past weeks weighed heavily on him and Aramis was unable to look at them with any degree of rationality. That he blamed himself for all that had transpired ate at Athos. He knew Porthos felt equally guilty for failing to be there for Aramis when he so desperately needed them. 

And he had needed them. 

Dealing with Savoy was difficult for him at the best of times. But adding Marsac’s return along with the discovery of the Duke’s part in it all, not to mention the possibility of the Captain’s, had sent him into an emotional spiral. And while it was not the first time one of them had been sent reeling by events outside of their control, normally the others were there to at least soften the blow. This time, however, rather than reaching out for Aramis, they had stepped back and watched as their brother was very nearly crushed when everything came crashing down around him.

“Porthos,” Athos called as he prodded the man with his foot. They needed to get up and find Aramis. It was not good for him to be out on his own right now. He could only imagine what might happen should he run into the Cardinal right now. He might have made some sort of peace with Treville, but he doubted if that extended to Richelieu. Or his Red Guard.

“What? What is it?” Porthos grunted as he sat up and shrugged the blanket off. It took him a moment but then he realized what the blanket had to mean and swore. “How long do you think he’s been gone?”

“Hours likely,” Athos replied. “We need to find him.”


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Aramis knocked on the door of the Bonacieux residence and waited, hoping that he was not disturbing the residents with his early morning visit. He doffed his hat and bowed his head politely when Constance answered the door. “Good morning, Madame,” he greeted. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” Constance said. She was a bit mystified by Aramis’ demeanor. The rakish smile and laughing eyes were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he stood quietly on her doorstep, looking almost nervous. “Would you like to come in?”

“If you’ve a moment,” Aramis replied. He stepped inside and into the kitchen then waited for her to join him. “Is D’Artagnan still about? I would like to speak with you both this morning if you can spare the time.”

“We always have time for you, Aramis,” she told him. She took him by the arm and led him to the table, pushing him down until he sat. “I’ll go and fetch him. You wait here, alright?” Not waiting for his reply, she hurried off, more worried than ever.

“Who was at the door?” D’Artagnan asked when he heard Constance enter his room behind him. He was just finishing putting on his sword belt.

“Aramis,” she replied. “Something is wrong. He… he…”

“What is it?” D’Artagnan asked, turning to face her. He remembered how downcast Aramis had seemed yesterday. He had attributed it to burying his friend and being out in the rain. Now, however, he wondered if there was more to it.

“He is not himself,” she said helplessly. “I can’t explain it. But… there is no light in his eyes. He says he wants to speak to us.”

“Then let us go and see what he has to say,” he suggested as he moved forward and pulled Constance into a loose hug. “Perhaps he can shed some light on what troubles him. He did just bury an old friend yesterday. It could be no more than that.”

They returned to the kitchen to find Aramis where Constance had left him. There was a moment when they first entered that they caught a glimpse of his face before he realized they were there. The pain they saw there nearly stopped them in their tracks. Reaching back, Constance gripped D’Artagnan’s hand hard.

“Have you eaten?” Constance asked as they came into the kitchen. “I can prepare something for the two of you. It won’t take a moment.”

“I thank you for your kindness, Madame,” Aramis replied, “but I am fine.”

“You wanted to talk to us, ‘Mis,” D’Artagnan prompted as he sat down next to the man. He motioned for Constance to do the same and she sat down on Aramis’ other side so that he was between them.

“Yes,” Aramis replied. He took a moment to gather his thoughts then began. “I wish to offer both of you my sincerest apologies for my behavior over the past weeks. I lied to you, Madame, and worst still, I enticed D’Artagnan to do so as well. I am so very grateful that you have forgiven him for what was, ultimately, my misdeed. I assure you, I will never treat you with such dishonor again.”

“Aramis,” Constance said softly as she reached out and covered his hand with both of her own. “I do not know all of what happened and I do not need to. I remember Savoy. I remember those that were lost. I remember how close we came to losing *you*. And you did not lie to me to hurt me. You were trying to protect me. If I did not know he was a fugitive then how could I be guilty of harboring him, right?”

“You… you are a very insightful lady, Madame,” Aramis replied. “But the fact remains that I betrayed our friendship by lying to you. Not to mention the fact that I endangered you by even bringing him here in the first place.”

“You did not consider him a danger,” she countered. “You did not know he would try to attack me.”

“What?” Aramis gasped, paling suddenly.

Constance winced, cursing herself. Of course Aramis had not known that. Only D’Artagnan had been witness to Marsac’s actions, pulling the man off of her. “He tried to kiss me. D’Artagnan stopped him. Nothing more than that.”

Aramis moaned and gripped Constance’s hand tightly in his. “I am so very, very sorry,” he whispered. “I never intended… Please, forgive me.”

“Aramis, stop this,” Constance said sternly. “You did what you felt you had to, for your brothers and yourself. I do not hold it against you. You thought you were protecting me, but you do not need to. I am not some weak thing that must be protected from the realities of life. I believe I have proven myself stronger than that, Monsieur.”

“Indeed you have, Madame,” he replied.

“Please look at me,” she implored for he had yet to meet her eyes since they had sat down. She tried to steel herself for what she would see when he did but the abject misery she saw reflected there was simply too much. Without a thought, she reached out and pulled him into her arms. 

“Madame?” Aramis queried, unsure what had driven the lady to suddenly embrace him so. He could feel D’Artagnan’s presence next to him and began to worry slightly, not wanting the young man to get the wrong idea. 

“I will keep telling you this until you believe it,” she said fiercely. “You did nothing wrong. But, in the meantime, if you need to hear me say I forgive you for lying to me then I do. I forgive you for that, but only for that. There is nothing else that you need ask forgiveness for.”

The feel of a warm hand grasping his shoulder and squeezing carefully made him start and he would have pulled back from her embrace if Constance had not tightened her arms. He felt D’Artagnan move closer to him, effectively trapping him between the two of them and he felt something inside of him break at the gentle care they took with him.

“We are here for you, Aramis,” D’Artagnan said softly, his lips scant inches from Aramis’ ear. “We are here and we will not leave you or forsake you or whatever else you seem to expect of us. You are our brother. That bond will never be broken. And Constance is right. Other than deceiving her, you did no wrong, and even that was for her protection.”

“I… I… I made you lie to her,” Aramis gasped as he struggled to hold on to his composure, mortified at the thought of weeping in Constance’s arms like a child.

“You made me do no such thing,” D’Artagnan told him. “I am a man grown. My decisions are my own. I happened to agree with you that it was for the best that she not know. In this, we were both wrong.”

“I tried to make you go against the Captain,” Aramis argued.

“You tried to make me open my eyes to the truth,” D’Artagnan countered. “That is all you were asking of us. You simply wanted us to listen, to consider the possibility rather than reject it out of hand. That we did not, is *our* failing, not yours.”

“I had no right to ask you to put me before your duty, before the Captain. I vow to you now, I shall never do so again. That you would still stand by me… still call me brother… I do not have the words.”

“And neither do any of us, it seems,” D’Artagnan said as he simply wrapped his arms around Aramis’ waist and laid his head on his shoulder. “For we cannot make you see that we are the ones who failed.”

“Enough,” Constance said when Aramis opened his mouth to argue the point once more. “You are distraught and not thinking clearly. Did you rest at all last night?”

“A little,” Aramis admitted. “I… there were many dreams.”

“Of course,” she said. “You need to eat something and then you need to get some sleep. D’Artagnan will you let the Captain know that Aramis is unwell? He may find him here if he has need of him.”

“Madame, I cannot impose…”

“Hush,” she told him firmly. 

“But I have already spoken to the Captain this morning,” Aramis insisted as he sat back so he could look at her. “He knows that I am fine.”

“Brother, I assure you, if you have spoken with him this morning then he knows you are anything but fine,” D’Artagnan told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these parts are rather short... this one is being difficult.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

Athos and Porthos strode into the garrison courtyard in time to find D’Artagnan standing on the landing talking with Treville. The Captain took one look at them and motioned for them to join them. With a sinking feeling, they hurried up the stairs. 

“Aramis?” Porthos asked as soon as he’d reached them.

“At Constance’s,” D’Artagnan told them quickly, seeing the near panic on their faces. “He came to talk with us. He wanted to apologize for his behavior. He… he did not look well. Constance refused to let him leave. She was feeding him when I left and then planned to put him to bed. He said he did not rest well last night.”

“Damn it to hell,” Porthos swore angrily. “What good did we do him?”

“Likely none,” Athos admitted, the defeat in his voice plain. “Though I do not know if he simply did not think he *could* come to us or did not even realize we were still there.”

“You think he thought we’d left him? As upset as he was?” Porthos questioned, aghast at the very thought.

“He did not cover us with the blanket until he left this morning,” Athos shrugged. “From that I must conclude that he did not realize we had remained in the outer room.”

“Don’t know if that’s better or worse,” Porthos grumbled. “Him thinking we’d just turn our backs on him again or him being too afraid to ask for our help in case we did.”

“We *will* fix this, brother,” Athos told him, gripping Porthos by the shoulder and squeezing hard. He could see how upset the big man was. Aramis was his dearest friend and Porthos loved him as he did no other. To know that their actions had wounded the man so badly that he would rather curl up in a corner than seek them out was worse than any physical blow ever could be.

“In my office. Now,” Treville said suddenly. The courtyard was starting to fill up as Musketeers gathered for morning muster. The last thing Aramis needed was any more attention being drawn to him. Once they were inside, Treville motioned for them to sit and did the same. “Now we can continue this discussion without the entire garrison being privy to it.”

“For what it’s worth, I think Constance may have started getting through to him,” D’Artagnan said. He did not want to give false hope but his brothers needed something to hold onto. They needed to know that their brother was not completely lost to them, that these last weeks had not done what Savoy had not and broken the Musketeer completely.

“Really?” Porthos asked hopefully. 

“A bit,” D’Artagnan said cautiously. “He at least seemed willing to listen to her and follow her direction. He blames himself and cannot seem to even hear anything otherwise. I tried to tell him, but…”

“We did as well, lad,” Athos told him. “He…”

“Athos?” Treville called when Athos hung his head and fell silent.

“I cannot even bring myself to repeat the things he said,” Athos finally managed. “He even questions his *worth* to us.”

“I see,” Treville said. “More damage has been done than I feared. You two need to face the fact that you may not be able to fix this. Not entirely.”

“No!” Porthos spat. “No. I refuse to accept that. We’re not losing him.”

“Porthos, son, you may already have.” Treville said the words as gently as he could, knowing how much they would hurt the men sitting before him. Never before had he been witness to such a brotherhood as existed between these three… now four with the addition of young D’Artagnan. To see that brotherhood fractured, perhaps permanently, was frightening to contemplate.

“Athos…” Porthos turned to his brother, the look in his eyes beseeching. They could not lose Aramis. They simply could not. He was their heart. How could they go on without their heart?

“We will find a way,” Athos told him. He cast a harsh glance at his commanding officer, letting him know, in no uncertain terms, not to contradict him in this. They *would* find a way. Aramis was their brother and their lover and their friend. They had failed him once. They would not fail him again. 

“I will do what I can to help you,” Treville said, silently agreeing not to argue the matter further. If Athos truly believed they could mend this rift then he would not undermine their efforts by doubting them. 

“Thank you, Sir,” Athos replied. 

“Alright,” Treville said, deciding it was past time he started acting like a commander again. “Let’s start comparing notes, shall we? I know he’s spoken with all of us. And, as difficult as it will be, there may be some clues in the things he has said that may help us to figure out what to do next. D’Artagnan, you are certain he will remain at Madame Bonacieux’s for the day?”

“Constance will not allow him to leave,” D’Artagnan assured him. “Though it might be good for you or I one to go and check on them at some point.”

“Why not Porthos or I?” Athos asked.

“I am not sure he is ready to see you just yet,” D’Artagnan explained. “He was… upset this morning. Nearly distraught by the time he had finished speaking with us. It is why Constance made him stay. There is less chance of him growing distraught again if one of us goes.”

“And less chance of him running,” Porthos added.

“That, too,” D’Artagnan conceded. “He is hurt, brother. And when someone has been hurt badly enough, they instinctively seek to shield themselves from further pain. He does not mean to run from you but he may not be able to help himself.”

The Captain left the three of them to talk while he saw to the rest of the unit. He would not be sending these men out until he was certain things with Aramis were at least stable. He knew Aramis would not let his brothers ride into danger without him and, at the moment, Treville did not trust the man to make it back alive should things go as they usually did for this lot. No, it would be best to keep them close to the garrison. Especially if Madame Bonacieux was somehow getting through to him. 

Once the rest of the men had been given their orders for the day, Treville returned to his office. He found the other three talking softly. He started to say something when D’Artagnan’s hushed words suddenly registered. “I was not aware your relationship was such,” the boy had said as he looked at his fellows.

They turned as one to regard Treville, well aware that he had heard D’Artagnan’s words. He could see the fear on all of their faces and sighed. There were some things he really did not need to know about his men for all of their sakes. “Do you gentlemen need a minute?” he asked, crooking an eyebrow.

“You heard,” Athos said, refusing to take the easy way out.

Shaking his head, Treville turned and barred the door, not wanting anyone else to stumble in and overhear something they should not. “If you think I did not already know then you are deluding yourself to a dangerous degree,” he warned.

“Sir?” Porthos queried worriedly.

“None of that now,” Treville said, softening his tone. Porthos was already tense enough to snap. He did not need anything else adding to it. “You do your jobs. You are cautious. What you do on your own time, in your own rooms, is your own business and no one else’s.”

“Thank you,” Athos told him then turned his attention back to D’Artagnan.

“I believe the Captain said all that needs be said on the matter,” D’Artagnan told him. “But I will tell you what I told Aramis this morning. You are my brothers. That bond is unbreakable. Who you choose to love will not change that.”

“You’re a good lad,” Porthos told him. 

“I am your friend,” D’Artagnan said instead. “And right now, we have another friend in dire need. Let us concentrate on him for now. We can talk about the rest of this when he is back with us again.”

They spent the next few hours going over what all Aramis had said to them. Treville hesitated only once, when it would reveal his culpability in the Savoy massacre to these men. He knew Aramis had not told them. For one, he doubted if they would be sitting here, seeking his help, if he had.

“Sir, whatever is between you and Aramis in regards to Savoy need not be shared with us,” Athos told him. He knew there was more to the story. He knew that Treville bore some portion of guilt in what had happened. It was as Aramis had been saying all along. Treville’s own words and actions showed the man’s involvement. That, however, was between the two of them. If Aramis deigned to share his knowledge with them then they would listen… this time. Somehow, Athos doubted they would be granted such a chance from the man again. Aramis, most likely, would take Treville’s secrets with him to the grave no matter how much it weighed on his soul to do so.

“Even if it may help you to better understand what all he is going through?” Treville asked, schooling his voice to one of careful neutrality.

“I doubt there is anything you can tell us in this regard that would truly help Aramis,” Athos replied. “We know there is more to the events of Savoy than we have been made privy to. We know that you and Aramis know the whole of it. We know that Aramis will likely take that knowledge to his grave before revealing it to another living soul, us included. We do not need to know what part you played in it all. We trust in Aramis and his judgment. Were you truly guilty of their deaths he would never have allowed you to leave the armory alive.”

“I am not an innocent in this, Athos.”

“No, Sir. You are not. That is something you will have to make your peace with but it is not for us to pass judgment on. Now, other than assuring you that he would not betray your confidences, what else did he say to you?”

After comparing notes, it was clear that Aramis’ thoughts and words all contained a central theme – his utter belief that he, alone, was to blame and his desperate contrition. Of everything, the thing Treville found most alarming was Aramis’ statement about his worth to the others. For him to doubt his fundamental worth to the two men sitting before him did not bode well. He understood guilt and despair. He had seen it time and gain, had felt it himself a great many times. He knew the depths it could drag a man to. It was now up to them to keep Aramis from being dragged down any further than he had already been.

When the time for noon meal came around, Treville pushed back from his desk. “You two go down and get something to eat. D’Artagnan and I will go and check on Aramis and Madame Bonacieux. We can continue our planning once we return.”

“Can we not…” Porthos began only for Treville to shake his head.

“No, son,” he said. “Not now. Perhaps tonight we shall all go round together to collect him. But let us get a look at him ourselves first and see if rest and food have done him any good.”


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

At Constance’s, D’Artagnan led Treville inside quietly, not wanting to disturb Aramis if he was asleep. They found Constance in the kitchen preparing a light meal. Aramis, rather than being asleep as they had hoped, was sitting at the kitchen table peeling potatoes.

“Captain,” Aramis started guiltily when the pair walked in.

“Peace, Aramis,” Treville told him. “We just came round to see if the pair of you needed anything.”

“No, Sir,” Aramis said. “In fact, I should probably head back to the garrison with you and stop taking up Madame’s time.”

“You will do no such thing,” Constance said firmly as she spun around and glared at him, gesturing dangerously with the knife she still had in her hand. “You are staying here and resting even if you do refuse to try to sleep.”

Clearing his throat, Treville pulled out a chair and sat down across from his Musketeer. He looked at the other man for long moments, taking in the dark circles under his eyes as well as the slightly sunken cheeks that indicated Aramis had been eating about as much as he had been sleeping of late.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to sleep, son?” he asked. He kept his voice as soft and low as he could, as if talking to a frightened child rather than one of the most deadly Musketeers in his regiment. 

“I… I cannot take the dreams,” Aramis admitted, shame coloring his words. 

“I can understand that,” Treville said, nodding. He smiled a bit when Aramis looked up at him. “I have suffered through my share of night terrors in my time. I know sometimes it helps if… well, if I am not alone. Do you think that might help, son? If you were not trying to sleep alone right now?”

“I don’t know,” Aramis replied then laughed darkly. “Not that it would matter either way. My choices at the moment are rather limited and I would never seek to impose on the lady in such a way.”

“Your choices are no more limited than you make them,” D’Artagnan told him. “And Constance would never consider helping you an imposition, regardless of how… improper it might appear.”

“He is right,” she said as she moved over to stand behind him and rest her hands on his shoulders. “If having another person lying next to you will help you to realize you are safe then I would gladly do so.”

“Madame, I could not ask…”

“First, my name is Constance,” she told you. “You have not called me by name since you arrived this morning. Second, you have not asked, I have offered. Tell me, do I need fear you taking advantage? Do I need worry about you behaving in an untoward manner?”

“No, of course not,” Aramis replied. He would never be so disrespectful to either Constance or D’Artagnan. 

“Then why are we arguing about this?”

“I do not wish to give others the wrong impression,” Aramis explained. 

“Whoever do you think you are going to give the wrong impression to?” Constance asked. “D’Artagnan is aware. The Captain is aware. I can only assume he will make sure the others know. Everyone that matters will understand. Everyone else can go hang for all I care.”

“I see what you meant now, lad,” Treville said with a smile. “She does have things well in hand. Try to eat something, Aramis, then let the lady help you at least try to sleep. We’ll be back round tonight.”

“Shall I make dinner for us all?” Constance asked.

“We do not wish to put you to any trouble, Madame,” Treville replied.

“It is no trouble,” she assured him. 

“Then yes. We shall *all* come round for dinner.”

Their walk back to the garrison was distinctly lighter. While they had not really spoken to Aramis about anything, it was clear that he was in good hands and that he would at least eat and rest. It also seemed, at least to Treville, that he was a bit more focused than he had been. The admission that he was being plagued by dreams was a start. It was the first sign that he saw something other than himself as being at fault. 

They found Athos and Porthos waiting for them at their table at the foot of the stairs. They were attempting to look unconcerned, as if they were merely passing the time, and doing a remarkably poor job of it. Shaking his head, Treville motioned for them to head up to his office. They needed to finish their discussion and see what plans they could come up with between them.

“How was he?” Porthos asked as soon as the door was closed behind them.

“Better than before,” D’Artagnan said. “Still not entirely himself, but Constance is keeping a sharp eye on him. She was fixing him something to eat when we left. After that, she was going to lie down with him so he could try to sleep.”

“Lie down with him?” Athos repeated, cocking his head and regarding both D’Artagnan and Treville.

“He is afraid to sleep,” Treville explained as he sat down. “Because of the dreams that are plaguing him. I suggested that not sleeping alone might help. Madame Bonacieux offered to assist in that regard to see if could get some sleep.”

“He’s going to sleep with Constance?” Porthos questioned, bewildered as to why D’Artagnan would allow such a thing, not to mention why Aramis would agree to it.

“Sleep is all he is going to do, brother,” D’Artagnan told him. “She only seeks to help him rest. Nothing more. He would betray none of us in such a manner. Surely you know this.”

“I do,” Porthos said at once, ashamed that he had made it seem as if he did not trust Aramis. He did. For all of his dalliances, Aramis was true to his lovers. Once he had taken Athos and Porthos into his bed, he had not taken another lover. Porthos knew he would not, not as long as they were still together. 

“We are all of us wrung out by recent events,” Athos said. “We need to take the time to calm ourselves lest we make matters between us even worse. We know Aramis would not betray us, but considering the fact that he thinks we no longer wish to be his lovers, he may not consider it a betrayal of us. You, however, are another matter. He will do nothing to betray your trust or damage what is between you and Constance.”

“Surely you are wrong,” D’Artagnan said. “He loves you both so much. It is why he is so miserable.”

“Yes,” Athos agreed. “Because he feels he has lost almost everything that he holds dear. Those few things he still has, he clings to desperately for fear they might slip through his fingers too.”

“Alright gentlemen, what exactly are we going to do to fix this mess?” Treville asked. “I told them we would all be coming round for dinner tonight so Aramis will be expecting you. We need to have a plan in place before then.”

“Well, I think the first thing you need to address is his mistaken belief that you are no longer his lovers,” D’Artagnan said. “He is mistaken about that, is he not?”

“Yes, he damn well is mistaken,” Porthos snarled. “He…”

“Calm yourself, Porthos,” Athos told him. “This anger helps no one, especially Aramis. Make no mistake, I feel as helpless as you but if he sees your anger, he will not take it well.”

Porthos took a deep breath, then another and another. He forced the anger he felt inside him at the thought of losing Aramis down deep where it could not be seen. He could not make it go away entirely. That would not happen until Aramis was once more by his side, but he could push it down for now.

“D’Artagnan is correct,” Treville said once Porthos had calmed sufficiently. “He needs to know that he has not lost the most important things in his life. You two can work on that. I will work on convincing him that his honor has not been irrevocably damaged.”

“And what of me?” D’Artagnan asked.

“You, lad, along with Constance will be the shoulders he relies on right now,” Treville told him. “And it will be up to you to get him to actually listen to what we are saying. He will be… resistant… to say the least. But he has proven that he will listen to the two of you, at least somewhat. Your jobs will be to exploit that mercilessly to get him to listen to us.”

“I’ll do my best, Sir,” D’Artagnan told him.

“That is all any of us can ask,” Treville said. “Above all, though, be there for him. He needs a friend, a brother, more than anything right now. The rest will fall into place given enough time. We simply must be patient. Something none of us is much good at, I’m afraid.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things took a bit of a turn I was not expecting here...

Part 6

“Come on,” Constance said as she helped him up from the table. She had at least gotten him to eat something, a small victory but a victory nonetheless. Now she just needed to get him to sleep. She thought about taking him into D’Artagnan’s room, but the bed there was rather narrow and she knew Aramis was uncomfortable about this arrangement as it was. Instead, she led him up to her own bedroom. 

“Madame, I am not sure this…”

“Constance,” she interrupted him, insisting that he use her name. She would not allow him to continue to distance himself from her. 

“Constance,” Aramis said, blushing slightly. “I am not sure this is, well, proper.”

“Again I ask, do I need fear you taking advantage in some way?”

“No,” Aramis said at once, meeting her eyes resolutely. “I would never behave so dishonorably toward you.”

“I know,” she told him. “Which is why this is not improper at all. This is merely two friends sharing a bed to rest. Nothing more. Right?”

“Right,” Aramis said with a good deal less conviction. “But… you know a man… he cannot always control… that is…”

“I am acquainted with the workings of a man’s body, Aramis,” she told him, taking pity on him. “You will not offend me if your body should… um, react, shall we say. Now, let’s lie down and try to get some rest, alright?”

“Very well,” Aramis agreed. He was already down to his shirt and breeches. He toed off his boots and unbuttoned loosened his clothes a bit for comfort’s sake. He saw Constance open her mouth and he merely looked at her, letting her know that he was *not* going to undress any further than this. He had slept in worse conditions. He would be fine.

Grinning, she slid into the bed and moved over next to the wall, assuming Aramis would prefer to be the one closest to the door. She watched as he hesitated for a moment then slid in beside her. She waited until he was resting on his back before she turned into his side and lay her head on his chest, effectively pinning him in place and ensuring that he knew she was there.

“This is not necessary,” he said softly.

“Go to sleep, Aramis. We can talk once you’ve gotten some rest.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis awoke to the feel of a head resting heavily on his chest. Auburn hair spread out around it like a halo, tickling his nose and making him smile for the first time in weeks. It actually hurt and he grimaced at the thought. If someone would have told him that there would ever come a time that he would be so unhappy for so long that when he finally did smile again it would actually be painful, he would have laughed first then checked them for a head injury. But the fact remained. He had smiled. And it had hurt. He wondered, for just a moment, if this was how Athos felt.

“You think entirely too loudly for someone who has just woken up,” Constance mumbled against his chest, the slight puff of air from her words sending a slight shiver through him. 

“My apologies,” he said, smiling again despite the brief pain. Perhaps he had not forgotten how after all.

“What were you thinking so hard about?” she asked as she sat up.

“Just musing about the fact that when I smiled a moment ago it actually hurt,” he told her. 

“Oh, Aramis,” she said and reached out to caress his cheek. “I have missed your smiles, you know.”

“Have you now?” he asked, gracing her with small one.

“There’s my handsome rake,” she beamed. “Do you feel better now that you’ve gotten some rest?”

“A bit,” he admitted. “Though I still feel… off.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“I do not wish to burden you with my woes,” he said.

“Aramis, do not make me slap you,” she teased. “Is that not what friends are for?”

“It is,” he told her, “and I thank you. I am more grateful than words can say for your support. But there are some things you may not wish to know. I have already tarnished my brothers in the eyes of their Captain. I would not commit the same sin with you.”

“I assure you, there is nothing you can say that will make me think less of them than I do right now,” Constance said a touch more sternly than she had intended. 

“You… you are angry with them?” Aramis asked, unable to fathom what they might have done to upset her so.

“Yes,” she replied hotly. She looked at him and took in the bewilderment in his eyes and shook her head. “And you do not even understand why.”

“I am afraid I am at a loss,” Aramis admitted. “I do not know what they might have done…”

“They hurt you,” she told him softly.

“No,” Aramis denied. “I am the one…”

“You are not,” she told him, her voice gentle but firm. “You did nothing wrong. They should have been there for you, should have stood with you as you would have for them, and they did not.”

“I asked too much,” Aramis argued.

“Have they ever asked too much of you?” Constance asked, trying a different tactic. “*Could* they ever?”

Aramis hesitated then looked away. “No,” he finally replied. “No, there is nothing they could not ask of me that I would not do regardless of the consequences. They are my brothers. I would never forsake them.”

“And yet you feel you asked too much of them?” Constance asked, trying to draw him out. If she could just make him see how flawed his thinking was then maybe he would stop blaming himself for everything.

“I must have,” Aramis said, “for why else would they have… have turned from me as they did? If it was not my fault for asking too much of them then perhaps it was my fault for asking anything at all.”

“I do not understand,” Constance said.

“I… we are… I am not sure you wish to hear this,” Aramis said feeling helpless. He wanted to confide in her but was afraid that if he told her too much she, too, would turn from him. He was not sure he was strong enough to endure such a thing just now.

“You are… more than brothers,” Constance offered. She was not sure if that was what Aramis was so afraid to admit to her but, if it was, she wanted him to know that his fears were groundless.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“It is alright, Aramis,” she told him, careful not to move away from him in any way lest he take it wrong. “You will find no censure from me in this regard.”

“You do not… mind?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” she told him, smiling as she did. “I would never begrudge you who you love. That is between you, them and God.”

“Thank you,” Aramis told her, a weight lifting from him as he realized that he would not lose yet another person in his life. 

“Now tell me what you meant,” she urged. “Why would it be your fault for asking at all? That makes no sense.”

“I love them,” Aramis said, “but, if they perhaps do not love me, or do not love me as… as deeply, then asking for anything would be wrong of me.”

“Surely you do not believe this,” Constance said. 

“It does not really matter now anyway,” Aramis told her hoping to change the subject.

“And just why is that?” Constance asked almost afraid of what he might say next.

“Because, after all I have done, they have no wish to continue the more intimate side of our relationship.”

“They told you this?” she asked incredulously.

“N-no,” Aramis admitted. “But they did not have to. After the way I have comported myself these past weeks why would they even consider still keeping me as a lover? They are far better off without me.”

“You are wrong,” Constance told him. She sat up in the bed and glared down at him. “You are not the one that has behaved incorrectly these past weeks. They are. You are they’re lover, Aramis. For that reason alone they should have stood by your side. That they did not… well, they are certainly not the men I thought they were.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M  
When the time for evening meal drew near they headed for Constance’s house. They had not wanted to arrive too early and give Aramis time to grow agitated. This way, they could distract him with supper if necessary. Treville sincerely hoped it would not be necessary, that the time spent in Madame Bonacieux’s care would have helped restore some of Aramis’ equilibrium, if not his faith in his brothers.

At their arrival, Athos started to knock but D’Artagnan stopped him and simply led them inside. They found the pair much the same way they had earlier, with Constance preparing supper and Aramis sitting at the table, talking quietly with her.

“How are you feeling, ‘Mis?” D’Artagnan asked as he came over and sat down next to him. He wanted to be close both to bolster Aramis and to keep him from running if he should try.

“Better,” Aramis said softly, offering D’Artagnan a ghost of a smile. He glanced at Treville as well and nodded a greeting. And while his eyes skittered over to the other two men, they flitted away just as quickly. 

“You look better,” Treville said as he sat down across from the two men. He had missed Aramis’ lack of acknowledgement of his lovers. Nor did he miss the pain that it caused the two men. 

“Thank you for today, Sir,” Aramis told him. “I do not mean to shirk my duties.”

“And you do not,” Treville told him before he could even go down that road. “You have been running yourself ragged these past weeks. You need rest, Aramis. A man can only endure so much and you are long past the limits of yours. I will not lose one of my best soldiers simply because he was not *rested* enough.”

“Sir?” Aramis stared at Treville, shocked at his words. 

“You are one of the finest soldiers I have ever had the privilege to work with,” Treville told him. “And one of the finest *men* I have ever known. But you are exhausted, son, in both mind and body. I will not see you buried with your brothers because you were too tired to defend yourself.”

Aramis looked away, unable to continue to meet Treville’s eyes. He could not for the life of him understand why the Captain was saying such things to him. He was a good soldier, yes, his marksmanship was known throughout the land. But he was not a good *man*. He had proven that.

“I see that you do not believe me,” Treville said. “And perhaps I deserve that, after everything. But I meant what I said, Aramis. There are many things I would do for you, son, but lie to you again is not one of them.”

“I am not a good man,” Aramis said, his voice barely above that of a whisper. He heard someone gasp and looked up to see Porthos clenching his hands into tight fists as Athos held him by the arms. Tearing his eyes away from his brothers, he looked back at his Captain. 

“You are,” Treville told him evenly. “You are one of the finest men I have ever known. You risked everything, including your life and freedom to find justice for your brothers. Even when everyone around you was telling you not to, was trying to stop you, you fought for them.

“And in the end, when you knew the truth, when you could have let Marsac kill me for what I had done, you did not.”

“You did not know what would happen,” Aramis countered weakly.

“I am not a fool, son,” Treville said. “I was not then either. I may not have known *what* was going to happen but I knew… I knew…”

“Stop,” Aramis said sharply, glancing around at the other occupants of the room. “This… this is not a conversation for such a venue, Sir.”

Treville shook his head, marveling at how the man before him could think so very little of himself. “And even now, you seek to guard my secrets,” he said. “Why protect me when you know…”

“Stop, I said!” Aramis nearly shouted. “This is neither the time nor place. I did not let Marsac kill you because it would have been wrong. It is not up to us to act as executioners and that is what he was doing. That… I could not allow…”

“Alright,” Treville relented. “But answer me one thing. Why do you not wish them to know? They would listen to you now. You do not have to carry this burden alone.”

“I would not see you… you tarnished in their eyes. The respect they have for you… I would not see it diminished, “Aramis said, then shrugged. “Besides, it is not their burden to carry.”

“Brother, please,” Porthos moaned, pulling away from Athos and dropping down next to Treville. He reached out and took Aramis’ hand before he could pull it back and held it clasped tightly in his own. “Can you not even bring yourself to look at us now? Please tell me we have not so truly lost you?”

“Porthos…” Aramis began, unsure how to respond. 

“Please,” Athos continued, coming to set next to Aramis, bracketing him between himself and D’Artagnan. “Please, tell us what we can do. Anything… anything at all. We did not mean for this. I swear to you, we did not.”

“I did not look at you… because… because it hurt too much,” Aramis finally said. “To see you… to see what… what was.”

“Is, Aramis,” Porthos said urgently. “*Is*. We have not left you, love. Have you… left us?”

“I could never,” Aramis said, his voice sounding small somehow and making Athos and Porthos glance at each other worriedly. 

“We know you are… angry… with us,” Athos said. “Or by rights you should be.”

“I am not angry,” Aramis said. “Why would I be angry with you?”

“Because we betrayed you,” Porthos snarled, angry at himself on Aramis’ behalf. “We let *jealousy* of all things cloud our judgment and we were not there when you needed us most.”

“You did as you should…”

“No. We. Did. Not!” Porthos roared, slamming his fist down onto the table hard enough to rattle the dishes sitting on it.

“Break those mugs and you’ll be buying me a new set,” Constance said over her shoulder. She did not bother to turn around, content that her admonition would be enough to settle things down a bit. She was glad they were trying to talk things out but if they got Aramis much more upset she was going to call a halt to it or at least make them take a break for a bit.

Porthos forced himself to calm, taking deep, shuddering breaths until the anger settled once more. If he heard Aramis say those words one more time, however, he did not think he would be able to control himself. 

“Porthos is right,” Athos said, keeping his voice as calm and even as he could under the circumstances. “If we had done as we should have, we would not be on the brink of losing you. Yet here we are. And for the life of me, I do not know how to bridge this chasm that has grown between us.”

“Are you entirely certain you wish to try?” Aramis asked, turning his head to look at Athos as he did. He felt Porthos’ hand tighten on his in reaction to his words, but it was Athos’ reaction he was looking for now. 

“Aramis, in all truth, if it took the rest of my life I would not stop trying,” Athos told him. “I would never… I *will* never stop trying to mend what is between us, to fix what I have destroyed through my own lack of care.”

“I just… I do not understand,” Aramis wailed, his emotions spilling past the carefully constructed cage he had shoved them in what felt like years ago.

“What don’t you understand?” Treville asked carefully. He was nearly holding his breath as he waited for Aramis to speak. The fact that he was talking to them at all was a huge relief. Now all they had to do was keep him talking until they got to the root of things. Of course, things were likely to get rather ugly then but it would be worth it if it saw these three together once more.

Aramis looked at Treville then looked back at Porthos and Athos. He hesitated, unsure what he should say, how much of his pain he should reveal. After all, they had not wanted to know before. Why would they want to know now? Better to shove the pain and anger and betrayal back inside its cage and lock it away again.

“Aramis,” Athos called softly when he failed to answer Treville. “What don’t you understand?”

Aramis swallowed thickly and looked at him. And suddenly, it was too much. The emotions he was trying to stuff down simply would not fit. Not this time. They had grown too big and the cage was too small to hold them all. Trembling, he stared at Athos and wondered how everything had come to this.

“How,” Aramis said softly. “I do not understand how you could simply turn your backs on me. How you could walk away as if I meant nothing to you, as if I were no one. I do not understand. How could you do this to me?”

“Finally,” Treville gasped and let out the breath he had been holding after all.

Constance set down the food she had been preparing and turned around to face the group. Like Treville, she had been waiting for this and was glad that Aramis had finally given voice to his pain. They had spoken of it some, the two of them, and she understood just how terribly betrayed he felt by the other two men. Now, it was time to see how these two planned to make amends. She knew they had but one chance at this if they wanted their lover back. She sincerely hoped they did not make as big a mess of it as they usually did.

“I am so sorry,” Porthos began only to have Aramis jerk his hand back from his grip and turn his head to glare at him. 

“Yes, so you have said,” he replied as evenly as he could. “But that does not answer my question and I would very much like an answer to it please.” 

Porthos looked to Athos, hoping for some clue as to what to say. How was he supposed to answer that question? He doubted Aramis would believe him if he said he did not know. “I… I was jealous,” Porthos said slowly, licking his lips nervously as he glanced about at the others in the room. “I did not like you falling back in with Marsac. Not after… not after how he abandoned you like he did. I was afraid. You just… you believed him, just like that, without a shred of evidence.”

“So because I had reason to trust Marsac, reason that you perhaps were not privy to, you decided to… what?” Aramis asked, his voice dripping with derision that let everyone know exactly how upset he was. “Refuse to even listen to me? Refuse to even consider the evidence that I did present to you? Refuse to have my back as I have had yours practically every single day since we have known one another?”

Porthos looked down at the tabletop, unable to meet his lover’s eyes. Aramis was right. He had acted the fool, so angry and hurt by Aramis’ trust in Marsac that he had all but abandoned him in a fit of pique. They were bloody lucky that Marsac’s body was the only one that had ended up in the ground that day. It could very well have been Aramis in his place… or there with him.

“Look. At. Me,” Aramis snarled, so angry he was shaking with it.

Porthos’ head shot up at once, his eyes meeting those of his enraged lover. All of the man’s pain and anger and turmoil was there for him to see and he would not have been surprised if he had challenged him then and there… or simply went for one of his pistols.

“Porthos is not the only one to blame,” Athos said softly, attempting to deflect at least some of Aramis’ ire aware from the other man. He could see how dangerously close they were to things spiraling out of control and knew something had to be done.

“No. No, he is not,” Aramis said as he turned his attention to Athos. 

“I would even go so far as to say he is less to blame than I am,” Athos continued. “For of all of us, I *should* have questioned Treville. I admitted I knew that he was lying yet I still refused to act.”

“And will you claim petty jealousy as your excuse as well?” Aramis asked, his voice taking on a more deadly edge.

“No,” Athos replied. “The only excuse I have to offer is cowardice.”

“Oh come now, Athos. Surely you can come up with something better than that,” Aramis sneered.

“It is the truth,” Athos maintained. “I was… afraid. If I knew the truth… if I admitted it… then I would have to act on it. I had no wish to do so. The Captain is a good man. Whatever mistakes he made, I am sure he has paid a heavy price for them. I had no wish to see him pay any more. Nor did I wish to see you destroyed by the knowledge. I was afraid, both of the truth and of what it might mean for all of us.”

“So you left me to learn of it on my own because you were too much of a coward to face it?” Aramis spat. “What? Did you hope I would be too stupid to figure it out? Or perhaps I would manage to get myself killed before doing so. That would have saved everyone a great deal of trouble.”

“Aramis,” Constance admonished. She moved around the table until she was behind him then put her hands on his shoulders. He was as tense as stone beneath her hands and she squeezed him gently, trying to soothe him.

“No one wanted that, brother,” D’Artagnan said. He hoped his voice, along with Constance’s would help calm the man. “And I am sorry as well. For I did not stand with you either.”

“No,” Aramis said turning to face D’Artagnan. He took the younger man’s hands in his and held them. “You helped me in every way you could and in many ways you should not have. You stood by me even when you did not want to and I am grateful for that, my dear friend.”

“Do you believe that they are sorry?” D’Artagnan asked him. “Do you believe that they know that they failed you and that they wish to make amends?”

Aramis paused for a moment and considered his answer. He looked at D’Artagnan then over to Treville and finally up at Constance. “I believe that they are sorry,” Aramis said slowly, “but it is what they are sorry for that eludes me.”

“You do not believe they are sorry for failing you? For betraying your trust?” Constance asked. 

“I am… unsure,” Aramis replied. “I know what I *want* to believe, but whether or not that is the truth remains to be seen.”

“How…” Porthos began then stopped. He had to swallow several times to get his suddenly dry throat to work. “How do we prove it? How do we prove that we are sorry for what we did? How do we get you back?”

“I do not know,” was Aramis’ soft reply.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

“I do not know.”

The words seemed to echo throughout the small room. Aramis could feel Constance’s hands tighten on his shoulders as well as the reflexive way d’Artagnan’s hand clutched at his own. He did not mean to be cruel, would never purposely be so to his brothers, even now. But it was the truth. He did not know how they could prove to him that they meant what they said, that their words were not just pretty promises meant to placate and soothe… that he was more to them than simply their whore.

“Will you let them at least try?” Constance asked behind him. She could see the pain etched on both Athos’ and Porthos’ faces. Even Treville looked pained at Aramis’ loss of faith in his brothers. She understood then just how dire things were and knew she and d’Artagnan would have to work hard to help these three lest they lose Aramis altogether.

Aramis nodded, unable to deny the obvious plea in her words after all she had done for him. “I will,” he agreed though, in truth, he held little hope for the outcome.

“That is all we ask of you, brother,” d’Artagnan told him.

“Alright,” Constance said, breaking the strained tableau. “I need to finish preparing supper or none of us are eating tonight. d’Artagnan, would you and the Captain be so kind as to bring in some more wood? And you two can go stretch your legs for a bit while Aramis and I finish this.”

Knowing an order when he heard one, d’Artagnan rose and nodded then waited for the others to do so as well. Reluctantly, they did as asked and headed out into the backyard. While d’Artagnan and Treville saw to the firewood, Athos and Porthos leaned against a tree as they replayed Aramis’ words over and over again.

“We have lost him,” Porthos said at last, his voice choked with tears he refused to let fall.

“Not yet,” Athos replied. “But we are perilously close to it.”

“How do we go on, Athos? How do we live without our heart?”

“I do not know,” Athos told him. “I am not sure we can. But I shall not stop trying to get him back. Not while I still live.”

Unbeknownst to the two men standing outside, their words carried easily in through the open kitchen window. Aramis stood next to Constance, his hands gripping the counter so hard his knuckles were white as he listened.

“They do still love you,” Constance said softly, careful that their own words did not carry back to the pair.

“I… I still…”

“It is alright,” she said. “But what you must ask yourself now is if you still love them. No, you do still love them, that much is clear. Perhaps the question is rather do you trust them. Can you trust them? Can you make yourself that… that open to them again? Do not try to answer now. Just… think on it.”

“And if I cannot?” Aramis asked in a bit of a daze.

“Then they will have to content themselves with being your brother. If you are even willing to allow them that far back into your life,” she said. 

“I cannot… I will not forsake our brotherhood,” Aramis said. He was sure of that much at least. Whatever else might come of things, he would always consider them his brothers. He would always do whatever was necessary to see them safe from harm. That, at least, had not changed. Not for him.

“Then that is something,” Constance replied. “And a place to start, maybe?”

“Perhaps,” Aramis said. He pulled her into a loose hug then, breathing in the scent of her hair and letting it, along with the feel of her – warm and solid in his arms – calm him as it had earlier. He had not lost everything. He still had his commission. He still had Constance and d’Artagnan and even the Captain, judging by his earlier words. And, come what may, he still had his brothers. They could… rebuild. Maybe it would not be what it was. Maybe it simply could not be. But it could be *something*.

Releasing her, he stepped back and returned to his seat at the table. He thought about everything that had happened over the past weeks. He thought about how he had tries so desperately to make his brothers see, to make them let go of their blind faith and see what was before them. He realized with a start that, while they may not have learned that lesson, he most certainly had. 

He had let go of his blind faith in the Captain, but in doing so, he had had his faith in his brothers torn forcibly from him. Gone was the security of knowing there would always be someone at his back, at his side, shoulder to shoulder with him. He had seen blind faith ripped away alright, but it was his own that ended up in tatters around him. 

“You are thinking very loudly again,” Constance said over her shoulder.

“Only as you instructed, Madame,” Aramis teased lightly, hoping to ease her mind a bit. 

“Tell me what is troubling you so much,” she said. “Is it just what I said?”

“Mostly,” Aramis replied. “I was thinking about how things have turned out. I had wanted my brothers to let go of their blind faith in the Captain. Yet in the end, I was the one left bereft of it.”

Any further conversation was forestalled by the return of d’Artagnan and Treville followed closely by Athos and Porthos. Aramis watched his brothers, noting the careful way they approached him as if scared to get too close. He wondered what exactly they were afraid of. He was not going to run, that much should be clear. Were they afraid of further censure on his part? 

He considered his own feelings over the last few days and realized that was just what they feared. While they wanted to draw near, they instinctively sought to shield themselves from more pain. Just as he had done when he had distanced himself from them after they had made it clear that they would not stand with him. 

“I will not bite,” he said softly, knowing that, this time, the overture must come from him. They would not push for fear of pushing him still farther away. 

Athos and Porthos froze at Aramis’ words. Porthos could not stop the hope from blooming in his chest while Athos stomped on his own brutally, knowing just how devastated he would be should it prove for naught. 

“’Mis?” Porthos said moving forward to sit down across from him at the table once more.

“You need not fear coming near me,” Aramis explained. “I have done all of the lashing out I intend to.”

“Dinner is almost ready,” Constance said breaking the tense silence. “You lot go and wash up while I lay the table.”

They did as Constance said, though with some reluctance on Porthos’ and Athos’ parts. After all, Aramis had just given the first indication that he did not utterly despise them for their treatment of him. Athos knew he would get on his knees and *beg* if that was what it took to get Aramis to even listen to their apologies. And he would stay on his knees for as long as it took the man to forgive them.

Porthos’ thoughts were of a similar twist. He would do whatever it took to get Aramis to believe in them again. He knew it would not be easy… or quick. That was the hardest part for him, to know that what had been laid to waste in a matter of days would take months, or more, to rebuild. 

“Steady, lads,” Treville said as he felt the atmosphere turn somber. “He has made the overture, but you must still go easy.”

“I know,” Athos replied. “And for all that he said he will offer no further rebuke, he did not say much else.”

“It is a start,” Treville said. 

Dinner was a rather subdued affair, which was to be expected after the day they had all had. Aramis felt drained. The little bit of sleep he had gotten with Constance had helped but it had not made up for the days spent tossing and turning, trapped in one nightmare after another, or those where sleep had simply eluded him altogether. 

“Alright, enough,” Constance said gently. She pushed her plate away and stood then moved over to Aramis. “Come on, you, before you fall asleep in your food.”

“I am sorry…”

“Hush,” she told him. “You are exhausted. Let’s get you upstairs to bed. You can just rest for a bit until I come up.”

“Madame, that is not necessary,” Aramis said blushing at her words. 

“Aramis, you need rest,” d’Artagnan told him, reaching out and laying a hand on his brother’s arm. “You were able to rest with Constance earlier today, were you not?”

“Ye-yes,” Aramis replied.

“Then resting with her again would be a good idea, right?” d’Artagnan continued. He needed Aramis to see that he did not mind this, that neither of them did. As for Porthos and Athos, that would be up to them.

“It is not proper,” Aramis argued.

“Hang proper,” Constance told him. “Many things are not proper, however, helping one of my dearest friends when he needs me, that will always be proper to me.”

“If you were able to find rest then we are grateful to Madame Bonacieux for her help in this,” Athos told him. 

“It’s not like we were much help with it,” Porthos added softly.

“Stop that,” Constance admonished. “He does not need your guilt. He needs rest. d’Artagnan, help me get him upstairs to my room, please.”

“Of course,” d’Artagnan replied then stood and put a hand under Aramis’ arm to help him up and keep him steady. “Come on, ‘Mis. Time to get some sleep.”

Aramis hesitated for a moment then nodded and let himself be helped up. He was glad for the young man’s hand on his arm as his fatigue threatened to take his legs from under him. Once he was steady, they headed up to Constance’s bedroom, leaving her in the kitchen with the others.

“If you have something to say, say it now,” she said, looking from one to the other of them.

“Thank you for dinner, Madame,” Athos said as he stood. “And thank you for taking such care of him today. If you have need of us, send word to the garrison and someone will fetch us immediately.”

“Look after him for us,” Porthos said, rising as well.

“I will look after him, but I will not do it for you,” Constance replied.

“You are angry with us,” Athos said, surprise coloring his words.

“Yes,” she said more sharply than she meant to.

“He is your friend and we hurt him,” Athos said then nodded. “You are a good friend to him.”

“I am still your friend as well,” she told them, “even if I am rather angry at you right now.”

“Yes, well, we are rather deserving of your ire,” Athos said. 

“I will do what I can to help fix this,” Constance said, “but he is more hurt than you realize.”

“You are mistaken. We know exactly how hurt he is and that we are the cause of it shames me greatly.”

“If it helps, he said…”

“What?” Porthos asked when he hesitated. He would grasp at any hope that they had not lost him. 

“That your brotherhood is something he would never forsake,” she told them. “If nothing else, you do still have your brother. I know that is not what you were hoping to hear.”

“Perhaps not, but it is far more than we have any right to wish for,” Athos said. “Thank you for that.”

“Athos…” Porthos whispered, his voice strangled.

“He is still with us,” Athos told him, his voice as confident as he could make it under the circumstances. “As long as he is still with us, still willing to call us brother, then there is a chance for reconciliation. Hold on to that if nothing else.”

Treville stood himself then. He had wanted to remain behind and speak with Madame Bonacieux about Aramis but he realized he needed to get these two back to the garrison where he could keep an eye on them. The last thing Aramis needed was for something to happen to one of his brothers when he was not with them.

“Thank you for dinner, Madame,” Treville said. “If you do not mind, I would like to come round in the morning to check on Aramis.”

“Of course, Captain. You are welcome any time,” she told him. 

They bid her good-night and began the walk back. When they made to turn toward their private dwellings, Treville stopped them. “Not tonight, gentlemen,” he said.

“Sir?” Porthos frowned.

“You have two choices. You can either return with me to the garrison and spend the night in the barracks or I can accompany you to whichever of your dwellings you wish to spend the night in,” Treville said. 

“You do not trust us on our own tonight,” Athos stated.

“No, I do not,” Treville said. “Despair can do strange things to a man. It can cloud the mind and make the worst of idea seem reasonable. We have only to look to Aramis to see that.”

“We are not so compromised…”

“Do you have any idea what it would do to him if something were to happen to either of you while he was not with you?” Treville said, stopping Athos before he could even get started. “When I am satisfied that you are thinking clearly then I shall leave you to your business. I have nearly lost Aramis twice over now, I shall not take a chance on a third time.”

“The garrison,” Porthos said. “That way if Constance sends word for us, we’ll already be there.”

“Very well,” Athos agreed. It was not what he wanted. He wanted to be alone with Porthos so that they might find some solace in each other’s presence, but he understood the Captain’s concern. Knowing his own penchant for drink, he did not think it was all that unreasonable a request of the man. 

“Thank you, men. Besides, this way we can make some plans for tomorrow. And I’ll see to it that you’re left alone in the barracks. No one will disturb you.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Athos replied.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This finished rather more abruptly than I thought it would.

Part 8

d’Artagnan stayed with him until Constance came up. He had insisted that Aramis undress this time, refusing to even listen to his arguments about impropriety. Once he was down to his smalls, d’Artagnan had helped him into the bed and covered him then sat with him so he would not be alone should sleep take him. 

It was not long before Constance joined them, smiling her thanks to d’Artagnan both for staying with him and for getting him settled for the night. She blushed slightly when she saw his clothes laid over the back of the chair then chided herself for being foolish.

“Thank you, d’Artagnan,” she told him as she pulled out a nightgown to change into.

“If you’ve no more need of me, I think I shall retire as well,” he said. He leaned down and kissed Aramis on the forehead then stood and kissed Constance on the cheek as well. “If you do need me, I am right downstairs.”

“We’ll be fine,” she told him, hugging him tightly before shooing him out of the room. Once the door was firmly closed she took a deep breath and, with her back to the bed, began undressing.

“Madame?” Aramis gasped once he realized what Constance was doing.

“Yes?” Constance replied as evenly as she could.

“What are you doing?” his voice had gone up in pitch and Constance had to bite her lip not to giggle at the near panic in it.

“I am undressing for bed, Aramis,” she told him. “Surely the ladies of your acquaintance have done this in your presence before.”

“Yes, they have, however they were my paramours at the time not… not the paramours of my *brothers*.”

“I am not d’Artagnan’s lover,” Constance replied.

“Let us not quibble over irrelevances,” Aramis replied. “You understand my meaning in this.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “And I thank you for it.”

“As do I,” d’Artagnan said as he opened the door and stepped back into the room. “My apologies for the intrusion, but I thought he might voice some objection once he realized what you were doing.”

“Well, other than the fact that I am not in the habit of undressing in front of *two* men,” Constance said, laughing nervously, “it is fine.”

d’Artagnan inclined his head then turned his attention back to Aramis. “You, my friend, have done nothing improper, for all that it may seem otherwise to an outsider looking in. I love Constance dearly and I would trust her with you were you both to spend the night completely naked, for you would never betray me nor would you act so disrespectfully toward her. Even now, you steadfastly refuse to allow your gaze anywhere near where she is changing.”

“I would never be so unseemly as to… as to accost a woman with even my gaze who did not invite it,” Aramis said, his eyes going to d’Artagnan’s own, needing him to believe him.

“I know,” d’Artagnan replied earnestly. “Why do you think I can rest so easy downstairs? I know you would never do anything untoward to *any* woman but especially to one you care for as much as you do Constance.”

By the time they had finished talking, Constance had managed to slip out of her clothes and into her nightgown. Turning back toward the bed, she smiled her thanks to d’Artagnan once more before pulling back the covers and lying down next to Aramis. She felt him stiffen slightly but ignored it, knowing it was probably only due to the fact that she was climbing into bed with him with d’Artagnan still in the bloody room.

“And now I shall truly leave you,” d’Artagnan said, grinning at them both. He turned down the lamp on his way out but left the door slightly ajar so that he could more easily hear if they were to call for him then he headed downstairs to his own room for the night.

“Better now?” Constance asked as she turned on her side and laid her head on his chest as she had done earlier in the day.

Aramis swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat and brought his arm around her, holding her to him. “Yes and no,” he replied honestly. “I am no longer worried that d’Artagnan is going to demand a duel.”

“Well that’s good at least,” she laughed. “What are you still worried about then?”

“Ah, your proximity and our state of dress… they do not exactly encourage, how do I put it… more platonic thoughts,” Aramis said, flushing slightly.

“Aramis, I assure you, I will not find your body’s reactions offensive,” she told him. “A man reacts how he reacts, often without rhyme or reason and often completely against his will.”

“There are many who think a man should have more control than that,” Aramis replied. 

“Then they are fools who do not understand the way God made us,” she countered.

Aramis hugged her tightly then and kissed the top of her head. “You are a blessing, my dear friend,” he said softly, “and I thank you for all you have done for me.”

“You are my friend,” she replied. “I would do anything in my power to help you. Now, let us try to get some sleep. Perhaps in the morning your mind will feel more rested and we can try to figure out just where it is you wish to go from here.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis awoke to the feel of a warm body pressed against his side and the familiar weight of a head on his chest. He felt his body begin to stir and breathed in deeply. However, the expected scents of male and leather and gunpowder were nowhere to be found. Instead, it was the soft scents of woman and spices and lavender. 

As his eyes sprang open, reality righted itself and Aramis remembered where he was and who he was with. Groaning softly, he tried to force his body into submission as he told himself firmly that this was d’Artagnan’s lover in his arms, not his own and he needed to behave. 

“Sleep well?” Constance asked, her head still pillowed on his chest.

“Yes, quite,” Aramis said, his voice strained.

“Stop it,” she admonished softly. “I am going to get up, get dressed and start breakfast. Come down when you are ready.”

Knowing the benefit of a tactical retreat, Aramis merely kept quiet as Constance got out of bed. He went so far as to close his eyes while she changed clothes, not altogether trusting himself this morning. He did not open them again until he heard the bedroom door close behind her. 

Opening his eyes to make sure she really had left, he threw back the covers and glared down at his traitorous body. He was hard in his smallclothes and was not sure if he was more pleased or upset by the fact. It was the first time in weeks that his body had reacted in such a way and it was a relief to feel the familiar tingling of desire. However, to do so with Constance pressed against him wearing nothing but the thinnest of gowns was… distressing to say the least. 

He thought back to when he had been just waking up and his body had started to respond. He had felt the press of a body against his own and realized he had expected it to be that of another man. That it had been a woman had thrown him instantly into a bit of a panic as memory returned. Well, it seemed his body still wanted his lovers, if his response was anything to go by. 

Closing his eyes once more, Aramis slid his hand down into his smalls and wrapped it around his erection. He groaned at the feel of his hand on himself. It had been so long since he had been touched by anyone, including himself. Unsure if what he was about to do was a good idea or not, he pictured his lovers. He felt his heart clench even as his cock jerked in his hand. 

Slowly, he began to stroke himself as he thought about Athos and Porthos, recalling memories of times they had lain together. He did his best to keep the memories to strictly physical ones, doing his best not to recall the times they had told him they loved him. It was hard, though. Those times were so interwoven with their lovemaking that it was nearly impossible to imagine one without the other. By the time Aramis gasped and began to spill over his belly, tears streamed from his eyes, running down his temples and dampening his hair. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair with d’Artagnan and Constance doing the majority of the talking as Aramis was still subdued from earlier. He knew without being told that he would not be allowed to return to the garrison again today and merely bid d’Artagnan farewell when he made to leave.

Once d’Artagnan was out the door, Constance took Aramis by the hand and led him into the sitting room and over to the sofa. She sat down and pulled him down beside her. “Talk to me,” she said. 

“I am sorry,” Aramis apologized. 

“What happened?” she pressed. “Was it the dreams again? I did not notice your sleep being disturbed.”

“No, it was not that. I…” he broke off then, blushing hotly, unsure how to explain about what he had done upstairs and how it had made him feel.

“Aramis, please,” she urged. “You are scaring me right now. I would help you but I do not know what has made you look as if…”

“As if?”

“As if something inside of you has died,” she lamented.

“I… when you left… I was aroused,” he began haltingly. “When I first awoke, I expected to find a man with me. When I realized it was not… that it was you… that is what truly woke me. So, when you left, I… I... took myself in hand and… thought of…”

“Of your lovers,” Constance finished for him.

“Just so,” Aramis replied.

“And were you, well, able to?” she asked, blushing herself now.

“Yes,” Aramis said, chuckling darkly. “Though I was weeping like a child by the time I was finished. It hurt, you see. To think of them. To remember past times together. I tried to only think of the more physical aspects of our unions but that proved rather impossible.”

“Do you think it hurt so much because you do not think you will ever have that again with them?” she asked, trying to approach the issue as logically as she could. 

“I do not know,” Aramis replied. “I think that may be part of it. Part of it may simply be my fear of letting them get that close to me again. I cannot… I cannot give them my body without giving them my heart, you see. Were it anyone else, I would have no problem simply whoring myself for their pleasure, but if I let them have me then I leave myself open to them completely.”

“Do you truly believe they do not love you as you love them?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “They simply cannot. Not and act as they have done. But I do think they love me as much as they are able to love anyone. I know that probably does not make much sense to you.”

“It makes perfect sense,” she said. “I think you are wrong, though. I think they love you every bit as much as you love them. You did not see their faces when they left last night. The look of hopelessness on Porthos’ face… I have only ever seen that level of despair once before. Can you guess who wore it?”

“I do not recall…”

“It was after d’Artagnan helped you upstairs to bed,” she explained. “He is so scared they have lost you completely. Athos is as well, though he tries to hide it for Porthos’ sake. I still do not know how they could have treated one they love so much as callously as they did but their love for you… that is not something you need doubt.”

“You think I should take them back,” he said flatly. 

“I think you should do whatever is best for you,” she told him. “You cannot, however, make a good decision if you do not have all of the facts. If you are simply unable to trust them to that degree again then so be it. But think about what it is you truly want. Then think about what it is you think you can live with. Once you have done that, then we can attempt to reconcile the two.”

“I want to wake up from the nightmare my life has become,” Aramis said, “but I know that is not to be. What I want, what I truly want, is my life back. I want the life I had. I want my brothers, and my lovers, by my side once more.”

“Alright,” Constance said, thrilled that they seemed to actually be making progress. Now, though, came the hard part. “Considering this morning, do you know if that would be something you could live with? Could you open yourself back up to them like that again?”

“I do not know,” Aramis told her, his voice defeated. “I know a part of me wants to. Yet another part of me wants to curl up in a ball and hide whenever they draw near. I am uncertain how to reconcile the two.”

“I think part of the problem is that you are trying to be too hasty in this. You do not have to take them back right now. We are only trying to decide if you think you *can*. Your trust, that is not something that will be simply given to them. They must earn that back. And that will take time and patience and a great deal of work on their parts.”

“You do not think they will expect me to simply tumble back into bed with them if I say I am willing to give them another chance?” Aramis asked.

“Oh I have no doubt of it. Especially Porthos. It will be up to you to set them straight in that regard.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Treville received the message from Constance around mid-day. All it said was to ask Athos and Porthos to accompany d’Artagnan home that evening. Constance had added that if he wanted to come as well that he was welcome to. Considering he had no idea what his men were in for, he thought it might be in everyone’s best interest if he were there.

He decided to wait until d’Artagnan was almost ready to leave before telling them. He knew if he told them any earlier, they would spend the whole time worrying over what it might mean. They were on edge enough as it was without adding to it unnecessarily. 

“Gentlemen,” he began as he stood in front of their table and regarded them.

“Sir?” Athos replied warily.

“Constance has requested that we accompany d’Artagnan home this evening. If you gentlemen are ready we can head there now.”

“Did she say why?” Porthos asked getting to his feet at once.

“No,” Treville replied. “Her note only requested our presence.”

“Then let us not keep the lady waiting,” Athos said. He did his best to keep his own fear in check. He could see the barely restrained panic on Porthos’ face and reached out a hand to grip the man’s arm. This could be nothing more than a dinner invitation, Constance’s way of allowing them somewhat supervised interactions with Aramis. There was no need to panic as of yet.

d’Artagnan shared a quick glance with Treville but otherwise gave no outward indication that he knew anything. He made no mention of their discussion last night or of Aramis’ rather subdued air this morning. He did not think Constance would bring them there for anything overly bad without warning them first but with Aramis’ moods it was hard to tell how any encounter might go.

The walk to the Bonacieux residence went quickly as none of them had any desire to dawdle. When they arrived, they found a scene almost identical to last time – Constance preparing dinner with Aramis seated at the table helping. 

Aramis looked up when he heard the front door open. He smiled and nodded at d’Artagnan and the Captain but seemed to freeze when Athos and Porthos entered the room. After a moment, he shook himself and grinned ruefully at them. “Forgive me,” he said, dipping his head. “And thank you for joining us.”

“We… the pleasure is ours,” Athos said formally, unsure how to act. 

“For the love of God,” Constance muttered over the sink causing Aramis to laugh out loud.

“Yes, my dear, you are quite right. We are being ridiculous,” he said. “d’Artagnan, do you think you could take over for me here? I would like to speak with Athos and Porthos for a few moments.”

“Of course, brother,” d’Artagnan replied. He clapped Aramis on the shoulder as the man stood then took his seat at the table.

“If you would be so kind as to join me in the sitting room,” Aramis said then turned and walked away trusting in the others to follow.

Athos glanced at Porthos then they moved as one to follow Aramis. If he wished to speak with them then they would listen to whatever he had to say, regardless of what it was. Athos considered it a miracle that the man would deign to speak with them at all. Perhaps, he would even be willing to listen to their apologies and allow them to at least begin trying to make amends.

When they entered the sitting room, they found Aramis standing in front of the fireplace, leaning against the mantel. The sight of him, unarmed, in just his shirt and breeches, his back completely exposed to them, was not something Athos thought to ever see again and he sucked in a breath.

“Does my visage startle you so much?” Aramis asked without turning around.

“Only in that you would appear even this vulnerable before us,” Athos answered truthfully.

“I see we are opting for truthfulness tonight,” Aramis shot back.

“Yes,” Athos replied.

Aramis turned around then and regarded the two men before him. He could see how tense both were and felt his own body tense in response. At least they were still attuned in that regard. “Please sit down,” he said and waved his hand toward the sofa.

Once they were seated, Aramis sat down in the chair next to the sofa. He looked at them for long moments then looked away. He ran his hand through his hair nervously before looking at them once more.

“I am sorry,” Aramis said finally. “This is more difficult than I thought it would be.”

Porthos closed his eyes and bit back a moan. His hand automatically sought Athos’ own and gripped it hard. He wanted to run, to get up and just leave. Anything but sit here and listen to Aramis tell them that it was over, that he was done with them.

“Porthos,” Aramis said gently. He had seen the look of pain cross the man’s features and could not just sit by and do nothing. “Look at me, please.”

Knowing he owed Aramis at least this much, Porthos forced himself to open his eyes and meet those of the other man. He could not blame him for not wanting to take a chance on them again. He knew they deserved it but he had meant what he had said to Athos. He truly did not know how they would go on without their heart.

“If you wish it, I would be willing to try again,” Aramis said softly.

“Aramis?” Athos queried, unable to truly believe what he had heard. He, too, had thought Aramis was about to tell them that he was done with them. 

“I can make no promises,” Aramis cautioned, “but we can try to rebuild what we had. It will take time. I do not… I do not *trust* you. I am sorry. I have no wish to hurt you…”

“Peace, Aramis,” Athos said, his voice coming out somewhat strangled. “After all we have done to you, that you would concern yourself about hurting us... We do not deserve such care, brother. And we will earn your trust again. That you would even allow us to try…”

Aramis nodded at Athos then turned his full attention to Porthos. “Porthos?”

“You… you still wish to be our lover?” Porthos asked, stunned and fearful at the same time.

“Eventually. Hopefully,” Aramis replied as gently as he could. He had expected Porthos to jump to the wrong conclusion in this and had not been wrong. 

“But not yet,” Porthos said, the realization sinking in.

“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head. “Not yet. Were it anyone but you two, I could easily whore myself, but I find with you two I cannot give my body without giving my heart as well.”

“Understand this, Aramis,” Athos said, his voice suddenly serious. “We have no desire for your body without your heart. If we cannot have the one, we could not bear to have the other.”

“God, love, please don’t ever talk of whoring yourself… not to us,” Porthos begged. “I’d just as soon never touch you that way again than have you… have you…”

Aramis reached out and took Porthos’ free hand in his, unable to watch his brother’s pain without responding. “I will not. I could not. Not with you two,” he told him. 

Athos tentatively stretched out his free hand for Aramis’ other one. He felt a weight leave him when it was gripped tightly and held. “Whatever you need of us, you shall have,” he told him. “We know we have let you down. We betrayed everything that was between us. That you would give us another chance, that you think us somehow deserving when we have shown you that we are anything but, is a miracle to me.”

“I will need time,” Aramis said, “and I do not promise not to become angry again at times. There are many things I still need to work through.”

“We know we are deserving of your anger. You do not need to hold it back from us,” Porthos told him.

“I do not hurt those I care about needlessly,” Aramis replied.

“Won’t be needlessly, will it?” Porthos argued. “Not if it helps you get past all of this.”

“And if you wish to talk, we shall listen this time,” Athos told him.

“Maybe,” Aramis said, smiling slightly. “Someday.”

End.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been bugging me for a while now so I thought I would start it at least. My Aramis keeps going back and forth between being hurt and being angry so fair warning...


End file.
